Batsketball
by adorable pragmatism
Summary: Hand-eye coordination training. Two-on-one; Dick and Jason versus Bruce. The only rule is that there are no rules. Also, breaking bones is frowned upon. They have patrol later.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Still crying about Jason ;_;

* * *

Jason let out a grumbly sigh under his breath as he walked out the manor through the side door, out into the garden. He was tired. That computer systems assignment had kicked his ass and he thought he was coming down with a cold.

This secret training, whatever it was, had better be as cool as Dick hinted.

It was dusk. Still a couple of hours before patrol with Bruce. The outdoor lights were on around the basketball court, and Dick and Bruce were standing on the blacktop in workout clothes.

Jason frowned. Since Bruce was here, he expected boring drills. Laps and push-ups. It couldn't be combat practice, which was his favourite, because they were out in the open and they usually did combat practice on mats.

Dick was grinning at Jason's confused face, and he pulled a basketball around from behind his back and twirled it on his finger.

"Actually?" Jason asked in disbelief. He'd shot a few baskets with Dick before, but never Bruce. He was pretty sure that Bruce only had the court as an excuse for why he was so fit. And the kicker was that Bruce didn't even look impatient to get back to the cave, like he wasn't being forced to be here.

"Yes, actually," Bruce said.

"You've been training like crazy," said Dick, "so we thought you needed to have a little fun."

Dick was still spinning the basketball on one finger, switching from hand to hand. Bruce was just standing there with his arms crossed, not saying anything, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"What?" Jason asked finally. They didn't have all night. "What are you waiting for?"

"Well, if you want to play, first you have to get the ball away from me," said Dick.

Jason was more than up for the challenge. He charged at Dick, but the older boy slipped out of the way at the last second and Jason only grabbed thin air.

"You gotta do better than that, Little Wing," Dick teased from behind him. "Close, though."

Jason chased Dick up and down the court, trying to rob him of the basketball, but Dick managed to keep it away from him with turns and spins, sleight of hand and fancy dribbling. Jason was considering just tackling Dick to get him to stop laughing. He huffed in (not exactly _un_happy) annoyance, and Bruce finally took pity on him and gave him some advice: "He leaves his left side less guarded."

"Bruce!" Dick complained as Jason grinned and tried to exploit the new information by targeting Dick's left side, only to fail because Dick turned away again and almost tripped him.

"So, what'd you think of the team?" Dick asked while he continued protecting the basketball from Jason's reach. Each time Jason was getting closer and closer to grabbing it away. Bruce watched them with an air of amusement.

"Artemis is cool, I guess. And the Martian girl was weirdly nice. But your speedster friend's dumb." Dick just laughed at that. "I don't think the others liked me," Jason said offhandedly as he lunged for the basketball again.

"What?" Dick asked as he held one arm out to keep Jason away. "That's crazy. Of course they like you."

"Fish Boy and Superclone barely said two words to me."

Dick shook his head. "Maybe that's because you're calling them _Fish Boy_ and _Superclone_. But, don't worry; they like you. Kaldur's just really occupied with things lately and Conner's not too talkative."

Jason shrugged. "I guess so." He knew that everyone else thought of him as a Robin replacement, not as good as the original. But, whatever. He'd show them.

But right now he had to get that basketball away from Dick. Giving into frustration, he leapt at Dick head-first and headbutted him in the stomach, tackling him to the ground. They landed in a tangle on the rough blacktop as the basketball bounced away. Turned out that Jason was wrong—Dick was _still_ laughing, even after being tackled. (And okay, maybe _he_was laughing a little bit, too.)

"There are other ways of using your head, Jason," said Bruce.

Dick raised his arm up. "I call foul."

The basketball rolled by Bruce's feet, and he bent down and picked it up as Dick and Jason got to their feet. He stood there for a moment, rolling the basketball between his hands. "There are no fouls," he said.

Dick grinned wickedly at Jason. He smirked back.

They both knew what Bruce meant. This wasn't basketball. This was _get the ball by any means necessary._

"Two-on-one?" Bruce asked.

"If you think you can handle it," said Dick.

The game that followed was just Jason and Dick seeing how much they could get away with. Since there weren't actually any rules, it wasn't cheating for Jason to climb up and perch on the hoop while Dick tossed him the ball from below. It wasn't cheating for them to use Maneuver Seven—though that didn't work anyway because Bruce grabbed Jason by the ankle mid-air and tugged him back down, catching him just before he hit the ground. It wasn't cheating for Dick and Jason to try to tackle Bruce at the same time… but most of the time Bruce stepped away unscathed and they ended up tackling each other instead.

Bruce was almost impossible to get the basketball from. He was bigger than both of them, he had a grip of iron, and trying to grab the ball away from him while he was dribbling was like sticking a hand between an alligator's jaws. His defense was rock-solid—unlike theirs, which he seemed to have no problem charging through.

The two boys had to think of increasingly creative ways to get close to the net without getting brushed aside and landing on their butts on the hard floor of the court.

"Hurry up!" Jason called. He was clinging to Bruce's back with his hands over the man's eyes while Dick had the ball. Bruce was yanking at Jason's arms, and this was only going to buy them a few seconds. "Make the shot before he—!"

Bruce threw Jason off his back. Jason went tumbling through the air and managed to twist at the last second and land on his feet. But it was too late for Bruce—Dick was already leaping up with the basketball, and did two somersaults midair just to show off before slam-dunking with a "_Whoop!"_

"Ha!" Dick held onto the rim of the hoop and looked down at them, laughing. "In your face, Bruce." He dropped down to the ground, landing smoothly, and high-fived Jason.

"It's not over yet," Bruce said, picking up the ball again.

"Admit it, you can't beat us. It's just like the time at the Watchtower." Dick looked over at Jason. "I told you about that, right?"

"Yes," Jason said, rolling his eyes. Dick bragged about how he and Superboy took down Bruce and Superman _all the time_.

"Aha, okay. But, seriously, Bruce. We know how this is going to end. The proteges have risen above the—"

Bruce tossed the basketball lazily over his shoulder. It traveled in a graceful arc to the opposite hoop and dropped through, barely disturbing the net. "You were saying?"

Fifteen minutes later, while Bruce was teaching them how to do that, he pulled out a buzzing pager from his pocket.

"Bruce—" Jason protested, realizing that their basketball time was going to be cut short. He quickly grew serious, as did Dick, when he saw the dark scowl on Bruce's face. "What is it?"

Bruce tossed Dick the basketball. "Joker escaped from Arkham. I need to go. I'll finish teaching you that throw another time."

"Can I go, too?"

"No, Jason," he said over his shoulder as he walked towards the manor. "It's more than you're prepared for. I'm going out alone tonight."

Jason grumbled disappointedly, scuffing the blacktop with his toe. Dick handed him the basketball and shrugged with an apologetic look on his face.

"What, you've got someplace to be, too?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, sorry. Team mission. Hopefully I'll be back by morning." He chucked Jason on the shoulder with his fist and smiled. "Hey, like Bruce said, we'll play again another time."

Jason tried the throw once before heading inside. It was close—the ball hit the rim, at least. It bounced off and rolled into some bushes, and he didn't bother retrieving it. It wasn't going anywhere. He'd find it next time they played, when Bruce was ready to teach him that throw.


	2. Chapter 2

Tim misses, and the basketball bounces off into the bushes.

"Your turn to get it," Dick tells him cheerfully, nudging Tim in the ribs with his elbow.

Tim heaves a sigh into the chilly autumn air and trudges after the ball. The bushes are dry and sharp and he does his best not to break them as he pushes them aside, to avoid suffering Alfred's displeasure later. He spots a basketball deep in the bushes and reaches for it. But as he emerges from the tangle of branches, he realizes that it's not the right one. It's old, cracked, and lopsided. Deflated. It must have been stuck in there for over a year.

He tucks it under his arm, not wanting to leave junk lying around the yard, and takes it with him as he searches for and finds the basketball he lost, then carries both back with him to the court.

Dick raises an eyebrow at the old basketball. "Where'd you find that?"

"In the bushes. I guess we should throw it out, it's—"

"Wait, let me see it."

Tim hands it over, confused at the urgency in Dick's voice. Silently, Dick turns the basketball over in his hands, his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes tracing over the logo and lines with recognition.

"Is everything okay?" Tim asks, because Dick has that same faraway expression on his face that he gets whenever he looks at that glass case in the Batcave, or those pictures on the fireplace mantle, or that closed bedroom door at the end of the hallway, and Tim realizes that he's stumbled across another painful memento left behind by a certain ghost.

For a minute Dick doesn't say anything, he just clutches the warped piece of rubber, his jaw tense and his breath escaping in small wisps of mist. He's remembering, Tim can tell.

Then Dick places the deflated basketball down on the court and smiles at Tim, but he suddenly looks tired. Strained. "Y'know, there's this throw Bruce promised to teach me, but he still hasn't gotten around to it. Maybe we can figure it out together."


End file.
